Track Meets and Epiphanies
by With a Burning Heart
Summary: Wouldn't you rather read the actual story?


**Story Title**  
**Track Meets and Epiphanies**

**Rating**  
**T**

**DISCLAIMER**

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

**The organizers of this contest and the authors of the stories submitted intend no copyright infringement.**

**ANONYMITY DISCLAIMER**

**This story is the work of its author and not of this contest. It has been submitted under the With a Burning Heart pen name for the purposes of this contest only. **

**It remains the work of its author.**

Bella woke up with a start to the shrill ringing of her alarm clock. She struggled to turn it off as Edward groaned sleepily.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." He cracked one eye opened and then closed it again. "Remind me exactly _why _we are up at this ungodly hour, love?"

Bella rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't be a brat, Edward. I _told_ you to forget the book and go to sleep – but you never listen, do you? This is the most important day of your daughter's life!"

"I thought that was her wedding to that idiotic–"

Bella slapped the top of her husband's head gently. "Get up."

"Bella, I–" he began.

"I said _get up!_" Suddenly, Edward felt the mattress covering him being yanked away. He squinted and covered his eyes with one hand, the other one searching blindly for the pillow his wife had thrown across the room. "We are _not_ going to be late because of you."

Edward sighed and sat up, raising his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. You win, OK? You always do."

Bella smiled. Over twenty years of marriage had made her husband a lot less clueless than he had first been in the ways of women. "I'm glad to hear you accept that so gracefully, dear. However, that does not change the fact that you are badly in need of a shower."

"Care to join me, Mrs. Cullen?" He asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively – a trait he had gotten from his childish older brother.

"I think not." Bella watched her husband scuttle dejectedly into the hotel bathroom from her place on the bed. After forty-seven years of life, her body was still beautiful, in its own way. The lines on her face did not take away her overall youthfulness – but Edward could remember every single one.

The crow's feet around her eyes had always been there, to bring back memories of smiles and the joyful laughter of celebration when Renesmee's illness was overcome. In the lines of her forehead, he saw worry – for her tiny, three-year-old daughter that, young as she was, had fought with polio and overcome it. But not without cost.

The first gray hairs, he recalled, had begun appearing between the former and the latter. How odd she had looked, a young mother of twenty-six, with brown hair streaked in silver! But beating the polio had been hard. On her, yes, but also on him, and Rose and Emmett, and Alice and Jasper, and Esme. And Carlisle, because although he was a doctor, he felt like there was nothing he could do.

And when they had been told that their baby was paralyzed for life – that their little girl, who loved to twirl around dancing, would never do so again – that was when the wrinkles surrounding her mouth had arrived.

Edward had his own gray hairs, and plenty lines to go around, but he knew that not even Nessie herself had been as affected by her sickness as Bella was.

Bella – beautiful, gorgeous, perfect Bella – had blamed herself. He could still hear her crying, as she had when they had gotten the worst news of their lives "Edward! Oh, Edward, what did I do wrong? Why her? My baby girl, my baby, Edward!"

It had devastated him, too, that only 0.01% of kids who got polio had to suffer this way. And he had been strange and broken – they had all been – until Jacob arrived.

Three years older than Renesmee, Jake had been just a little boy when they had first met. His kite had swooped down into the branches that shielded the picnicking family from the sun, the girl prattling on from her blanket. And Edward had climbed to the top to get it for him. It had taken him five or ten minutes, but by the time he was back, Jacob Black had become a part of the family.

"It was his smile that did it, you know" Bella had told him afterwards "She saw him smile… and she laughed. And he liked her, darling, so much – asking questions about why she could not go play and saying she looked like a little angel in her white dress."

Bella rubbed her eyes and began brushing her hair into order. She'd taken a bath before going to sleep the night before, knowing Edward would need a shower to wake him up properly. Satisfied that she didn't look like she'd just rolled out of bed, she began applying make-up the way she did every morning – a habit she'd picked up from Rose and Alice after they all turned thirty. "You're not a teen-aged girl anymore, Bella," they'd say. "You can't rely entirely on your natural beauty anymore. Plus, who wants to go around parading her wrinkles?"

Though she had resented it at first, Bella had to agree that light make-up _did_ do wonders for her appearance, and she had always liked looking clean. Her friends were right, she wasn't the naïve seventeen-year-old she'd once been, thinking anyone worth knowing wouldn't judge her upon seeing her.

Bella slipped on a pretty, bright yellow sundress and some silver sandals. She had, somehow, learned how to dress comfortably and still look like a fashion-conscious lady of her age should.

Edward finally came out of the shower and pulled on some jeans and a dress shirt. He eyed his wife contemplatively "Not that I'm complaining, but I thought you were gonna wear the blue dress."

"Just because you have some weird fetish with me and the color blue doesn't mean I have to wear it all the time. It's not like I'm a blueberry, Edward," she snorted.

Rolling his eyes, Bella's husband merely kissed her neck and clasped her favorite pearl necklace around it. It was nice and long, with one pearl for each year of their marriage. Bella could almost see her life reflected in it.

Edward checked his watch. "Time to go."

Nodding, Bella sprayed some perfume on, snatched up her purse and followed him out the door.

***

The race was about to begin. Bella fidgeted nervously in her seat, heart racing. Edward sat on her left, and her son-in-law, Jacob, was on her right, looking even sicker than she felt – if that was even possible.

Bella grabbed her husband's hand. She could see her only daughter perfectly, her reddish-brown hair impeccable, arms poised and ready to begin turning the wheels of her wheelchair as soon as she heard the gun-shot.

With a bang, they were off, becoming eight colorful dots in the distance. Bella's hands shook as she raised her binoculars to her eyes, wanting to see what was happening at the farther end of the track.

It all happened so fast – Nessie competed in the 100m only – she hadn't even seen who'd won. But then Jacob was jumping up and down, and Edward was screaming his daughter's name and crying, and she was so confused because how could she have won?

And then she heard it. The high-pitched, girly, unmistakable shriek that rose above all else in the stadium. Sobbing, Bella fell into her seat, not even realizing she'd stood up in the first place.

She'd always known her little girl would be going places, she just hadn't even considered that she'd wind up representing the USA in the Paralympics. And winning? Christ!

Bella looked up at the two best men in the world with tears in her eyes. They were still shouting, elated. And if she'd lost, they would've been devastated. Because Nessie was their everything.

But, Bella realized, the race hadn't ever mattered. Not really. It was something to be grateful for, true. But if she'd lost, what, then? Nessie had still made it to the Olympics. And even if she hadn't, she'd overcome her disability in a truly inspiring way, becoming an exemplary wife, student, and friend.

She was the best. Bella's daughter was the best in the world. And Bella had just learned the most important lesson of her life.

Nessie had been the best all along.


End file.
